


No Pill's Gonna Cure My Ill

by antheia



Category: CW RPS (AU)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-26
Updated: 2007-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antheia/pseuds/antheia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to <a href="http://girl-wonder.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://girl-wonder.livejournal.com/"><b>girl_wonder</b></a> and <a href="http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/"><b>packyrsuitcases</b></a> for the betas. Any remaining errors are mine.</p>
    </blockquote>





	No Pill's Gonna Cure My Ill

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://girl-wonder.livejournal.com/profile)[**girl_wonder**](http://girl-wonder.livejournal.com/) and [](http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/profile)[**packyrsuitcases**](http://packyrsuitcases.livejournal.com/) for the betas. Any remaining errors are mine.

"Another fucking lie," Chad thought to himself as he watched his blood dye the white cotton red. His life didn’t flash before his eyes, and there wasn't any goddamned light to walk towards. All he could hear was his mother’s voice, imploring him to be careful. It was the last thing she’d said to him before disappearing in the middle of the night.

 

It occurred to him, for a moment, that maybe if he’d listened. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t be bleeding to death on a New York City street at three in the morning. Maybe if he hadn’t done exactly the opposite just to spite her, he wouldn’t be thanking a God he didn’t believe in for the heat that pooled on his stomach just around the knife wound. Just maybe.

 

* * *

 

It was the singing that woke him up. The beeping, shuffling, banging and yelling was familiar, not this deep, lilting voice making its way through some kind of hymn he thought he might remember from childhood. Chad felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. He opened his eyes slowly, and glanced around his bed.

 

The singer was a tall, sandy-haired and freckled man in a white jacket. He smiled, dropping some pills into Chad's palm and passing him a cup of water.

 

"Painkillers; I’d suggest taking ‘em before you try to sit up proper."

 

Smiling gratefully, Chad popped the tablets into his mouth. He winced as he swallowed, reminding him of the reason he was being treated to a comfortable bed and clean water. And a serenade.

 

"Yeah, that’s gonna be sore for a few days. Whoever stabbed you did a damned good job. You were pretty lucky, but you’ve got a mess of stitches in your gut. You’re gonna have to take it easy for a few weeks."

 

He smiled weakly and closed his eyes. There was no reason to explain to a stranger that "taking it easy for a few weeks" wasn’t an option. Hell, taking it easy for a few _days_ wasn’t really an option. As it was, the guy who’d put him here had made off with his rent for the month. He didn’t know how; he was pretty sure he could starve himself and pull double the clients, but he’d still come up short.

 

"Oh," the nurse glanced up as he swapped in a new IV bag. "Is there anyone we should call for you? Someone who’d want to know that you’re in the hospital?"

 

Chad started to laugh, he couldn’t help it. _Someone who’d want to know…_ The more he thought about it, the harder he laughed. Which was great, until the coughing fit and the searing pain in his gut.

 

"I'm sorry, man. It's just- No, there's really nobody I can think of who'd care."

 

"I had to ask, Mr. Murray."

 

"Call me Chad, dude." He smiled, grateful that there was no pity or superiority in the other man's voice.

 

"I'm Jensen. Happy to know you." His grip was firm and warm as he shook Chad's hand. "Okay, I've gotta go check on other patients, but here's the rundown: your remote is on the nightstand, and there's a call button on there. If you need me, give that a push. The white plastic block poking into your side is the controller for the bed, so if you want the headrest up or down or whatever, you use that. Try to take it easy, man."

 

Chad watched as Jensen finished his once-over and left. "It could be worse," Chad thought to himself, watching the curtain dance under the vent.

 

* * *

 

He was just putting his other leg into his jeans when Jensen returned.

 

"Dude, what are you doing?"

 

"What does it look like? I'm putting on my pants." Chad didn't think he was going to be able to sneak out quite as quietly as he'd hoped.

 

"The hell you are. You have 20 stitches in your abdomen. You are gonna get back in your bed right now." As he was talking, he walked over and manhandled Chad back towards the bed. Jensen's hand was warm and soft on Chad's back. A chill ran up his spine, and he glanced back to see if Jensen had noticed.

 

Jensen dropped his hand and turned to pick up Chad's jeans. As he folded them, Chad swung himself back onto the mattress.

 

"I appreciate the concern, but I don't have any insurance or anything. They're just gonna kick me out."

 

"Not ‘till accounting gets here, and they won't be in until two hours after rounds. So here's what I propose: eat your pudding cup, enjoy the bed, and wait until the doctor sees you. He'll give you a script for an antibiotic and a painkiller."

 

Chad blinked at him. He didn't know who this guy was, but he was clearly campaigning for some kind of Florence Nightingale award. Still, it sounded like a good plan. He could always use painkillers, they were great for trade. He leaned back and nodded. He felt gratitude swelling in his chest, along with something unfamiliar – something he couldn't quite identify.

 

"Alright."

 

* * *

 

Six hours later, Jensen was simultaneously swearing that he'd never play cards with Chad again and that he'd _let_ Chad win on account of his stitches. Chad eyed him as he collected another five bucks off the table. "It's not my fault you let me use the pudding cup as my ante for the first game."

 

"I didn't know you were gonna kick my ass, dude." Jensen grinned at him as he bundled the cards into the cardboard box and returned them to his pocket. Chad returned the smile with an ease that startled him. It had been a damned long time since he'd felt this; felt something that might have been friendship, might have been _something_ \- under different circumstances. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the doctor.

 

"Good morning, there, Mr. Murray. How are you feeling?" The doctor was standing at the foot of his bed, chart in hand, and hadn't even glanced at Chad yet.

 

"I feel like I got stabbed, dude." Jensen glared at him and mouthed _quit it_. "Sorry, doc. I'm just a little sore and tired, here."

 

"Not surprising, Mr. Murray. Let's have a look at you, then."

 

* * *

 

An hour later, he felt more violated than he ever had by a John – every inch of him had been poked, prodded and examined. He stood up and put the prescriptions on the counter before reaching for his jeans. At least now he could get out of there - the doctor had grudingly allowed that he could go, provided he signed a waiver.

 

"Nice boxers, dude." Chad laughed as Jensen poked his head around the curtain.

 

"Aw, man – don't make me laugh, dude," Chad pressed a hand to his side.

 

"Sorry. I hear the Doc gave you a clean bill of health." Jensen walked around the bed and helped Chad steady himself.

 

"Thanks. Yeah. I see you're not in your uniform."

 

"Yeah, shift's over."

 

Chad tugged his jeans up over his hips while Jensen leaned against the bed and eyed him. "You gonna head home, or back out to the street?"

 

Chad blinked at him. Of course he knew what Chad did, why he was in there – he was a nurse in a New York City emergency room. Chad didn't know why that hadn't really occurred to him until just then; until Jensen had said something about it. He thought about getting annoyed or indignant. He thought about storming out.

 

Instead, he looked Jensen in the eye and answered him honestly. "It's a little early for the street, man. But I'm not really looking forward to home – rent's due. I don't really know what I'm gonna do."

 

"Let me buy you breakfast. There's a Mc Donald's close by." Jensen seemed as surprised by his offer as Chad was. But it didn't look like he was trying to figure out how to take it back, either. Chad didn't like charity, but he liked starving even less.

 

He slipped on his t-shirt, hoodie and his battered leather jacket, and then jammed his feet into his shoes. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

 

Jensen stood up and pressed his palm against Chad's back. "Glad for the company, man."

 

Chad paused, turning towards Jensen's body. "Just one thing I want to get out of the way," he muttered, before leaning in and pressing a kiss on Jensen's lips. For a second, Chad wondered if he'd fucked this up, whatever this was, before it had even had a chance. Maybe he'd been wrong; maybe he'd read the signals wrong. It had been a long-ass time since he'd been genuinely attracted to someone, or since he'd had to guess at whether someone wanted him.

 

And then Jensen's lips moved under his, the kiss deepening. His hands slipped up into Chad's hair and pulled him close.

 

Chad broke away first.

 

"Nurse, are you sure that's strictly ethical?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Shut up and let me buy you an Egg McMuffin."  



End file.
